


More Than One

by FallingInToThePages



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Child Harry, Dark Magic, F/M, Feels, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Movie Spoilers, Neglectful Dumbledore, Runaway, Slow To Update, Wizarding Politics, Wizarding World is Scared, dark themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 12:06:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10639518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallingInToThePages/pseuds/FallingInToThePages
Summary: Harry finds himself running away from a wizarding world that, for some unknown reason to him, wants to kill him. Well besides the whole, ya know, first-degree murder thing. That, he understands loud and clear.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone!
> 
> I decided to start this fic because I was inspired by Fantastic Beast and Where To Find Them, so obvious spoilers to any who haven't watched it yet! I mostly wondered to myself, why didn't Harry end up being an obscurial? So here's a fic exploring the concept of him actually becoming one. As I have a tight schedule, and am avoiding other fics, don't expect updates to be too close together. Sorry about that.
> 
> I hope you guys enjoy this story anyways!

The rain cascaded from the skies with an aggressive demeanor, pounding down on those almost bare shoulders. His shirt was threadbare, showing the unhealthy pale skin underneath the beige shirt. Mud was splattered up his thorn scratched calves, the clotted blood scabbing over, making the skin as tight as his gaunt cheeks. A hungry look could be seen in his eyes if one where to find him in those dark bushes. Here, he crouched in the shrubbery behind a cozy looking house. He didn't know where he was, but it was a safe place. Unlike the countless others, he had stayed in. His dull emerald eyes darted about, the innocent twinkle that once resided in them long gone. How he wished that he hadn't lost such a thing. He stiffened as he heard the bushes near him rustle, his fists clenching in a defensive gesture. He sniffed the air, hoping to grab a scent of whatever was looking to make a meal out of him, despite the cleansing rain.

He let out a high pitched squeal as he was bitten, his body being dragged forward by a seemingly invisible force. Mud and rocks filled his open mouth with the added taste of blood as he bit his tongue sharply after spitting the foreign objects out hurriedly. He aggressively pulled his arm, tugging it bodily, trying to get away from the offending creature. He was suddenly airborne and thrust into the light of an open doorway. He couldn't see anything from the abrupt change of lighting but could make out only silhouettes, hovering cautiously over him. Hunched over him, they seemed to draw umbrellas, which shielded him from the rain. He squinted up at the faces that stayed just close enough in his view. Two seemed elderly, the other was a young man, maybe around his age, and a woman younger than the two elderly people. In his slightly dazed mind, he couldn't decipher their expressions, as his throat burnt in the intensity of its screams.

He felt the darkness rising in his chest, swirling around his heart, waiting to strike the people above him that had caused him such pain. He grasped his left arm to his chest, feeling overwhelmed with the amount of pain being delivered to his tiny body. He would have gladly let the beast within him attack, yet he whirled it in, remembering where, and who he had come to see this rainy night. A croak of an inhale followed the ending of the screaming, making the decidedly weary people above him shift back a few steps. Locking eyes with the older, more masculine, person, he cried out, "Mister Newt Scamander," he licked his lips, still wet from the rainfall continuing around the cover of the umbrellas. "Please help me," his whisper seemed to block out the thunderous rain, echoing in his throbbing head as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he passed out on the wet ground.


	2. Have a Cuppa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry wakes up to Newt and Tina bickering over what to do with him.

The crackle and popping of a fire washed over him as he lay on a slightly bumpy surface. Unlike the uncomfortably bumpy of rocks, this type of bumpy was that of a well-loved piece of furniture. Peeking open a green eye, Harry found himself looking up at a burgundy colored ceiling, lying on what appeared to be a similarly colored couch with a black and yellow quilt thrown over him, almost in a haphazard way, the edges tucked in somewhat neatly, like it was an afterthought that said person under the quilt was a child. Harry perked his head up at the sound of hushed voices, arguing heatedly. He tilted his head to the ajar door, observing his surroundings as to see if he would get caught for eavesdropping on the conversation taking place in the room next to his. In the room he woke up in, Harry spotted a few cages in the corner, an armchair that was slightly worn out, though still held a regal feeling, and another more stout chair that had a floral pattern. Looking around, his eyes caught the moving pictures above the fireplace, almost similar to the photos that could be found in another place he had been held captive in. It had been such a long time since he had been indoors, he almost instantly felt on edge with the tugging familiarity of memories and feelings resurfacing behind his blank face.

He curled his fingers into the soft quilt, hand sewn it seemed, as he gracefully stood up. He looked at the bandaging around his left arm, touching it briefly before wrapping the quilt around his now clothed body. The baggy clothing pooled around him, too large to fit his body type, but not uncomfortably so, unlike past clothing lent to him. He crouched behind the door, looking through the crack, his eyes straining to see in the similarly dim room, as they both only had one or two lamps. Deciding to just listen in, he pressed his ear closer to the edge of the door, making sure to stay out of view in the crack itself. Behind the door, having seen the brief movement through the crack with his trained eyes, Newt Scamander continued to converse with his wife and daughter, debating on the risks of allowing an injured little boy recover in their little home. Beforehand, he had felt the charm he had put on the boy to know when he awoke flair up but had decided to allow the boy a moment to get a grip on his thoughts and such.

"I can't see why you two are still unsure about this," Newt told them in a relaxed way, leaning back against his cushioned chair, looking at the two women over his reading glasses. Tina had a cup of tea clasped in her hands, deciding against coffee this once, as a way to sooth her nerves. "Newt," she leveled him with a stare of her own, used to her long time husband's antics towards allowing possibly dangerous beings into their house. "Do we really want to put Rolf and Minnie in danger darling?" She asked her husband with a serious tone, watching as her husband bit his lip unsurely, knowing that he was too compassionate to turn away the child. "We just need to let him get accustomed to us," Newt breathed out, looking away from his wife's knowing look, a mixture of fondness and exasperation in her rich brown eyes. Their daughter, a red head with brown eyes and a smattering of freckles, piped up then, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Didn't aunt Queenie want us to visit her sometime over the summer?" She pondered, turning her dark eyes on her father with a raised eyebrow. Catching on, Tina rolled her eyes, "How Slytherin," she drawled out with a huffy chuckle, referencing their long-running inside joke involving the three Hogwarts students in the household.

"Yes, my sweet Minnie," Newt gave a soft smirk, "Couldn't you plan out something sneaky with our little Rolf?" Minnie allowed a small smile at her father's teasing, knowing that the Hufflepuff meant no harm towards her and her son. She leaned her arms on the table, her fists under her chin as she stared up at the aquamarine ceiling of the kitchen slash dining room. "With the rising rumors of an incident with Mister Moldy Shorts, I suppose I could say that I'm taking my little boy out for the school year, and transferring him to Ilvermony, since he did get an invitation to go there as well." Tina allowed her serious face to soften at the little twinkle in her daughter's eyes, even with the amount of old trauma that that devious look came with, it showed that her little Minnie wasn't too worried about the already shaky future going for the British Wizarding World, with the famous boy who lived turning out to be an obscurial two years ago. When the boy had gone unconscious, the first thing they had done, was to check his forehead. They had expected the boy to have run away, instead of Albus Dumbledore's claim of killing the boy as swiftly as possible in the untrustworthy Prophet, using the Quibbler as a reliable source of information.

Newt had closed himself off from the public even more than before, focusing on his family and beasts. They had gone around the world again that summer after Rolf's first and second year in Hogwarts under disguise, Minnie joining when she had finished up her four-year Potions Master apprenticeship with a Russian Potions Master, Rolf having been looked after by his grandparents during this time frame. It was two years after this announcement, that they found this black haired boy on their doorstep in Dorset, England. If they housed Harry Potter, they would have to make sure that his identity was hidden, and that no outbursts occurred. "I suppose you've heard enough at this point, hmm?" Newt said suddenly, looking over to the doorway leading to their cozy living room. He allowed a tentative smile on his face Tina and Minnie looked at him with accusing looks, both quick as a whip to figure out that he hadn't alerted them to when Harry had woken up. "Come on in Harry," Newt cooed, getting up from his chair slowly as the door creaked open, a guarded face peeking out through the heavy door. "We have some stew for you, and a cuppa if you want one," he murmured in a soft voice, his voice deep and soothing from years of practicing on scared beasts.

Harry tentatively slid out from his cover of the door, taking small steps towards Newt with hesitant, jerky steps. Harry soon found himself a few inches from the crouching old man, his kind eyes downcast, knowing not to make any intimidating eye contact with any sort of scared creature. "Hungry?" He asked the silent teenager, his small body still giving the idea of a child from a mixture of the obscurus and from his childhood home. Giving a jerky nod, Newt slowly stood up, and walked over to the stove, grabbing a small bowl, and putting some of the heated up beef stew into the porcelain bowl. "At the table, you'll find my wife Tina, and my daughter Monifa," Newt said over his shoulder, after finishing pouring the small amount of food, and turned and held the bowl out in front of the boy. Minnie cleared her throat, capturing Harry's flighty attention as he tensed up, "Minnie will be fine though," she told him in a soft voice, giving the wide-eyed teen a small smile. He gave a terse nod, before looking back at Newt, where he kept the bowl outstretched between the two of them, looking at him patiently with a soft gaze. "Would you like to join us at the table, Harry?" Giving a shudder at the direct usage of his first name, Harry gave another quick nod, taking the bowl and sitting down at the table with his eyes surveying the people around the table with him.

The three allowed Harry to eat his dinner in somewhat silence, chatting in soft voices at Newt's subtle nod, allowing Harry to observe their mannerisms and speech patterns for whatever assurance that method could provide. "Oh, Harry dear," Tina looked at the black haired boy with a soft gaze as she had seen Newt give, ignoring the slight jump from the boy. "Our grandson Rolf is sleeping, but perhaps you two could get along before Minnie and he have to go to America," she informed him, watching how the boy's guarded expression remained tense as he nodded, "Of course," Newt began in a soft voice, making Harry whip his head in his direction. "It's your choice whether to meet him as well," he watched as those green eyes filled with slight relief, before hardening again as he gave another mute nod. He went back to eating the stew, steadily digging into it as to not make himself sick from the large amount of food for his stomach.

As time ticked by slowly, Harry left a portion of food in his bowl, full, yet afraid to say so. Newt noticed this, and captured his eye and gave a nod towards the bowl, reaching out to take it. "May I check that Thestral bite on your wrist?" Newt gestured at his bandaged wrist, making Harry twitch subconsciously, wanting to draw the wound closer to his body. "Cindy can be quite territorial, and probably thought you were going to hurt us," he explained, waiting for Harry to give him his wound for inspection. Thestrals weren't venomous in anyway, but their fangs could hold about the same amount of bacteria found in any other creature, so it was best to be on the safe side when dealing with any sort of bite. Harry stared at Newt for a moment, before timidly placing his wrist in his outstretched hand, his eyes never leaving Newt's face. "What's a Thestral?" Harry asked in a quiet voice, his curiosity getting to him as he watched Newt slowly unwrap the white bandages, showing the bloodied gauze under the thick material. Newt looked up at Harry through his eyelashes, as he had moved to kneel in front of the small boy, pulling out his little pouch of medical supplies from a drawer. Newt hummed as he gave a smile to the boy, "Thestrals are winged horses who eat meat and can be invisible," Newt told him, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from telling this young boy too much about the creature that bit him.

Harry nodded, zoning out for a few minutes as Newt went around the kitchen, grabbing herbs and stuff off the walls, and seemingly creating the needed anti-bacterial creams for the wound in a crazed pattern that only he understood. Recalling the two women from beforehand, Harry looked over his shoulder at the round table they had been sitting at. He found that they had left, and gave a small shrug after looking around a bit more, seeing that it was very dark outside the window above the sink. Since he had the time, he took a more thorough look over the kitchen, having spotted his escape routes when he first entered. He observed the pictures along the light blue walls, the shades growing darker as they climbed up the walls towards the ceiling. He saw a couple who looked like Tina and Newt, them cradling a baby who he assumed was Minnie, and countless pictures of Minnie growing up, in a place with a safari. He noticed that some were moving and that others were muggle based, especially a few that held a stout man and a tall woman in scandalous clothing, the coloring black and white and faded.

Harry felt Newt's hands still on his wrist, making him look down at the old man. He found the man looking at the same black and white photo that he had been looking at moments ago, "That's Tina's sister, Queenie, and her late husband," Newt sighed then, standing up from his position on the ground, wiping off his trousers. "Jacob was a good man," Newt continued, beginning to put away the supplies he had used on the wound. "Unfortunately, he was a muggle, he passed away at ninety," Newt finished with a heavy sigh, wiping his hands on a towel hanging from the stove. Harry hummed in response, looking closely at the picture from his spot by the table. They looked like they had been happy. "My condolences," Harry replied politely, wringing his hands, he didn't really know what to do in situations like this. Newt gave him a look that he couldn't place when he looked up, "It's alright," Newt told him in his soothing voice, "There are things in this world that you just can't control."

Harry nodded numbly in understanding, his eyes going back to looking around as Newt went about the kitchen, grabbing buckets full of a variety of foods. "Want to come and help me feed my beasts?" Newt asked him curiously, switching the topic of the conversation after the brief moment of companionable silence, in which Harry discovered that there were tiny stick men climbing around the kitchen walls. "Ah, I see you spotted Pickett and his friends," Newt toned in, his voice curving the statement into more of a question at the end. Harry nodded mutely as Newt reached up, one of the green things climbing onto his hand. Newt silently placed his creature on his shoulder, holding out a bucket of hay for Harry to take. Silently, he reached out a grasped the handle of the bucket, ignoring his slight fatigue for a new adventure. Newt bent down to pet a cat like creature, one that reminded Harry of Crookshanks, before walking towards a large container, one that you would see at a public beach, where beach toys and the like could be found in.

"Ready?" Newt asked the boy, a twinkle in his eyes as he unclipped the latches, and held open the green door. "Cause, as the kids say now a days, I believe that you're about to have your mind blown."


End file.
